Blood is Thicker
by moonsandyachts
Summary: *********SPOILERS FROM 4x19 AND ONWARDS************ AU. Christina reveals to Michael that Lincoln isn't his brother - he is Sara's.


_So, I'm relatively new to the Prison Break fandom and this is just a random idea I had and decided to make into a fanfic. I haven't done much creative story writing for years (though I've tried multiple times and failed with completing anything) so I'm pretty happy about managing to write this (even though most of the dialogue is taken from the show...)._

 _ **There will be spoilers here if you haven't seen season 4 episode 19 "S.O.B."**_

 **Content warning** (just in case) for attempted drowning of someone, abusive/manipulative moms _._ Let me know if I should add more.

 _Prison Break belongs to Paul Scheuring and not to me and I own nothing except for the wild fan theory that this story is based on._

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Michael walked purposefully back into the living room with a pair of scissors and cut through the two pieces of duct tape that had his mother's arms trapped to the chair. He made sure to keep her hands taped so that she couldn't do much to harm him or escape, and also to get across the message that he was still in control.

"You're going to take me to Scylla, and then you can walk," he ordered, mustering up the firmest tone he could with the nervousness and the headache he was experiencing. "No questions. No one tells the General. You can live the rest of your life like this never happened, but Scylla is mine."

"Lincoln would never let that happen," Christina replied evenly.

"He doesn't have to know," Michael retorted. A small and amused smirk came upon Christina's face.

"Even as children you couldn't agree," she mused. "You fought about everything. The two of you couldn't be more different. But you know that, don't you, Michael? This isn't about Lincoln. You have blue eyes, he has green. He played with trucks, you took apart the television set. And I don't need to point out the difference in IQ or temperament. You know what I'm getting at, don't you Michael?"

"I don't have any idea what you're talking about," Michael denied, though he knew that his mother would know it was a lie. His LLI and genius-level IQ didn't allow him to _not_ catch on to the implications of what she was saying, but there was no way they could be true. There was no way.

"You've always known it deep in your heart," Christina continued. "You've just had no one to confirm it."

Michael held his breath, pressing his fist over his mouth.

"Lincoln isn't your brother."

And in that moment, Michael's stomach dropped.

He didn't know how he was still standing. Everything in the world seemed to disappear except for the pounding in his head and those four words that kept reverberating in his mind.

 _Lincoln isn't your brother._

 _Lincoln isn't your brother._

 _Lincoln. Isn't. Your. Brother._

It wasn't that he believed this woman. He knew she would probably say anything to manipulate him into doing what she wants. But still, there was a chance that she wasn't lying. He couldn't know for sure and that was driving his head in.

"It's true," Christina said solemnly. "I should've told you before but you always looked up to him. And I had no idea that things would end up like this."

"You have no idea what you're saying," Michael said resolutely, though on the inside his confidence was wavering. His mother had set his entire world off-balance and now he had no solid ground to stand on. No truths to hold onto.

"Have you ever seen pictures of Lincoln as a baby?"

 _"Yes!"_

"No. There aren't any. Your father didn't adopt him until he was three years old. His mother worked for the Company. She was a friend of mine and Aldo's. And Lincoln never knew his real father. His father never even knew him either." Christina scoffed. "He didn't even know that he had sentenced his own son to death."

Michael's breath hitched.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know. Lincoln may not be your brother..." Christina paused, looking straight into her son's pained and confused eyes. "But he _is_ Sara's."

Michael felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach and slapped him across the face.

Lincoln is Frank Tancredi's _son_?

 _Lincoln_ _and_ _Sara_ _are_ _siblings_?!

He heard a muffled shriek come from the hallway that led to the bedroom that Sara was supposed to be in, and instantly knew that she must've been eavesdropping. She was the very last thing on his mind, though.

"You're..." He trailed off. For the first time in his interactions with his mother today, he was at a loss for words. His mind was trying to come up with various possible scenarios that could allow for what Christina was saying to be true. But as he looked at his mother, _really_ looked at her, it was like seeing her for the first time. This was the mother who he had faked her own death and left him and Lincoln, a six-year-old and a ten-year-old, to fend for themselves. This was the mother who left them for 25 years to pursue her own twisted quest for power and wealth, who had sat back and allowed the corrupt organisation she worked for to frame Lincoln for a murder he didn't commit and do anything within their power to make sure he was sent to the electric chair. This wasn't the woman who baked cookies and played kickball with him in the backyard. This wasn't his mother. This was a woman who was trying to mess with his head for her own malicious and selfish purposes and up until this point, had been succeeding.

"You're lying," he finally spat.

"I'm not," Christina said calmly. "People have one-night stands all the time, Michael. Lincoln's mother raised him as a single mother until her death because 'Frontier Justice Frank' couldn't let the fact that he got some random woman pregnant get out to the public. That allowed him to continue building his political career, and along the way he met another woman, married her and little Sara was born six years after the big brother she never knew. As for Lincoln's mother, she was killed in an explosion in Manila. Aldo brought him home the next day. He felt it was his duty. He never asked me how I felt. I never bonded with Lincoln like mother and son. He was always so angry."

Michael turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose. God, his head hurt.

"Understandably so. He was too young to remember his mother, but he always knew that something was missing."

"I can't believe you're playing this card," Michael said softly, his hand falling to his side.

"I'm sorry, Michael. But I felt differently about you. And you could tell," Christina remarked. "That's why you always felt guilty. Why you were always throwing yourself off the cliff even though Lincoln was already dead at the bottom. It's why you went to prison and pissed your life away!"

"YOU DON'T KNOW WHY I DID THE THINGS I DID!" Michael exploded, spinning around to face his mother, who, despite herself, jumped at his sudden outburst. "YOU WEREN'T THERE!"

Christina quickly regained the composure she had maintained for the majority of the confrontation, and the jibes continued.

"Who knows what you could have accomplished? But you always felt that you had to make less of yourself to make Lincoln look less pathetic in comparison."

" _Lincoln_ ," Michael seethed, _"_ was more of a brother to me, than you were _ever_ a mother. You left. He stayed. He fed me. Kept me off the streets. Put me through school."

"How?" Christina snapped. "By getting in trouble over and over again, just like he is right now. Veronica really should have stayed away." Michael's blood boiled at the mention of his and Lincoln's lifelong friend and the only woman his brother had ever truly been in love with. Veronica had spent her last days trying to save the life of the man she loved because she knew he was innocent. While Michael was putting his escape plan into action in Fox River, Veronica worked tirelessly on the outside to get to the bottom of the conspiracy and find evidence that could exonerate Lincoln. Up until her death she was a strong person who stood up for what was right, something Michael had always admired about her. When they were children she was someone who he aspired to be like. Christina didn't know her and Lincoln's relationship. The grief for Vee that Michael had stuffed down in the past few months of being on the run began to resurface, but he couldn't dwell on it. There was something significant his mother had said that he caught onto.

"What do you mean 'right now'? Where he is?"

"That poor girl," Christina sneered, dismissing her son. "She was so hopelessly in love with him. Ever since they were little. I could see it in her eyes from even before they were five years old. It's such a shame. She was bright. Disregarding that inexplicable crush on Lincoln, I mean. She made something of herself, but then she went running straight back to him, and look where _that_ got her. She was going to marry a decent man with a stable job. She could've had a long, happy life, and a happy family. And she gave it all up for Lincoln. Don't you see, Michael?" Christina's voice rose to a plea. "He just drags everyone down. Veronica, Lisa, his own son, _you._ "

" _Where is he?"_ Michael demanded.

"He's out looking for Scylla. And he's not going to find it," Christina answered bluntly. "Maybe you should call him and tell him. Unless there's too much bad blood between you two. Or no blood."

Michael stayed silent as he turned and took a few steps forward while fishing his phone out of his pocket. He dialed Lincoln's number and waited anxiously as he listened to it ring, pacing up and down slowly.

When there was no answer, he snapped the phone shut and darted his eyes up towards his mother, his eyes narrowing into blue daggers.

"Where is he?" he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

Christina sighed, and when she didn't answer Michael repeated his question once again, this time with more force.

"Where. _Is_ he?"

"It's not that I don't want to help you. It's just that I hate to see you go running after him again," Christina said with an exasperated edge.

That did it.

Michael stormed towards his mother and grabbed her by the shoulders, shoving her roughly to the floor.

 _"Come here!"_

"Michael! Michael, what are you doing?!" Christina exclaimed. " _Michael!_ "

 _"Where is_ _he?!"_ Michael shouted as he dragged Christina towards the hallway, struggling against her attempts to get away.

"Okay. You want to go running after him, flush your life down the toilet once and for all? _Go ahead!_ "

Michael pulled his mother into another shorter hallway that branched off from the main one and led to the bathroom, ignoring Sara as he passed her, backed up against the wall at the end of the first hallway.

"Where is he? Why don't you tell me where he is, or I'll kill you myself, I swear! _I'll kill you myself!"_

Michael stopped just in front of the bathtub and pulled Christina up onto her knees, pushing her against its edge.

"Michael!"

Michael stole a glance at the ajar bathroom door at the sound of Sara's voice and saw her quickly walk up and stop in the doorway. His mind barely registered her presence though, and he turned back towards the bathtub and turned on the tap, filling it with water.

"Come on! Come here!" Michael tried to push Christina's head towards the water. _"Where is he?! Where is he?! Where is Lincoln?! Where is Lincoln?!"_

"Alright! Fine," Christina relented. "There's an energy conference at the Panda Bay Hotel in about an hour. He'll be there. That's the truth," she spat out the last part.

Michael said nothing for a moment, breathing heavily as the adrenaline that had been coursing through his body ebbed away, and the realisation of what he had nearly done settled in on him. He turned off the tap and stood up, still panting. He looked down at his mother, who actually appeared fearful, and then up at Sara, who stared back at him with wide, shocked eyes. _Oh, God._ Did he just try to drown his mother in a bathtub in front of _Sara_?

He hurried out of the bathroom, past Sara, and back out into the living room, stopping in front of the wall of Deb's family photos they were admiring earlier, and buried his face in his hands. But he didn't know whose hands these were. They weren't Michael Scofield's. Well, Michael Scofield he used to think he was.

"I'm sorry," he rasped, uncovering his face and turning around as Sara slowly, and tentatively, approached him. "I don't know what to think," his voice broke, and he covered his eyes again. He couldn't bear to even look at her. He was supposed to be someone she could trust. He was one of the only people, if not the only person, she trusted, and now he's proven himself to be someone she should fear. Now she'll only see him as no better than the likes of Paul Kellerman, or even Gretchen, and maybe he deserved it.

He didn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't what came next. Sara gently pulled his hands away and then cupped his face with her own. He opened his eyes and looked into her hazel-green ones and didn't see fear. Concern, yes, but not fear. Not disgust. Nothing of the sort.

"Go. Go find him," she softly urged him. "I got her. Go."

Michael reached up and gently grasped Sara's wrists with his fingertips, relaxing into her touch. He knew that he didn't deserve someone as supportive as Sara at all, but in that moment he didn't think he could feel more love and gratitude towards this woman. He'd have to spend the rest of their lives trying to make up for everything he's done to her and everything that has happened to her because of him.

"If she gives you any trouble..." Michael began saying, patting the gun that was nested in Sara's jacket on the sofa table against the wall. "If she gives you any trouble-"

"I know," Sara interrupted, saving him from having to voice the troubling suggestion. "Just go."

Michael locked eyes with her one last time, shooing away the fleeting thought that they were the same colour – and shape – as Lincoln's, before turning and walking towards the front door. He opened it and stepped through, shutting it behind him.

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 _So if you liked that, disliked it or have any thoughts please leave a review and feel free to give any constructive criticism :)_

 _This will be a multi-chapter story so long as people are actually following it._

 _Also I don't really think Sara and Lincoln's eyes are a similar shape but if the writers of the show can pretend that Lincoln's eyes are green then I feel that I have the liberty to pretend Sara and Linc look more similar than they actually do._

 _Anyway, please review and if you do, **pleaseeee leave out any spoilers for season 5 because I haven't started watching it yet (!)**_


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